CHAPTER FOUR

September 24, 6:00 A.M.

Pucallpa, Peru

KAYANAKÚ STUMBLED INTO the city, her eyes wide with fear. She had never left her home in the jungle before, but now her village was gone—every hut burned, every villager murdered. People stopped and stared as she walked slowly down the sidewalk, hand on her belly and grief in her swollen and blackened eyes. The hard surface scalded her bare feet, but she didn’t notice the pain over the agony in her heart.

She wasn’t sure where to go for help or who to trust. After wandering for six days, surviving on the little food she could find and almost no water, she was weakening and feared for her unborn child’s life, certain they would not survive much longer on their own.

Only a few residents littered the streets when she first reached the outskirts of the town, but as the sun climbed higher in the sky and she penetrated the city, the walkways became filled with people dressed much differently from her. Loud and large colorful objects sped by her, sounding horns if she got too close, making her heart beat faster.

With each step, Kayanakú found it more difficult to keep her balance, exhaustion taking its toll. The familiar site of trees in a grassy area gave her encouragement and strength to press forward, despite the frightening structures surrounding the natural vegetation on all sides. She made her way to the shade, curled up on the cool ground beneath a tree, and closed her eyes.

Her mind filled with visions of Kokush. He had been a good spiritual leader and father-in-law. When she regained consciousness after the attack, she hadn’t seen his body among the carnage, so she thought he had escaped. But as she left the ruins of the village behind, her hopes were crushed. Shortly after abandoning the charred huts, she stumbled across his lifeless form clutching the bark cloth. Spying the empty hole under the horóva tree, she knew the invaders had discovered their ancient secret, and she feared the consequences. Her mind then wandered to her husband. He had fought valiantly, but was no match for the weapons of the sinister attackers. Now alone, all that mattered was to save their unborn child.

Kayanakú slept, tossing and turning, as the horror of the slaughter replayed in her dreams, and the blackened face of the evil woman taunted her. The curves of the female’s body had revealed she was indeed a human, otherwise Kayanakú would have believed she had seen the fabled demon spirit. The woman had given the orders and had shown no remorse as the villagers were beaten and killed.

The anguished cries from mothers torn away from their children rang loudly through Kayanakú’s subconscious, and the sound of gunfire made her curl into a tighter ball and moan. The vision of her husband falling dead to the ground, and the pain on uncle’s face as the intruder held the knife to his throat was too clear to push out of her mind.

A warm soft hand on her shoulder gave her hope that the horrors had been a bad dream, and her husband was waking her for the day. Opening her eyes, fear pierced through her consciousness like a knife to the heart, forcing her abruptly out of her slumber. Whimpering and jerking back, Kayanakú cowered, clutching her belly, as a woman dressed from head to toe in black gently shook her.

“Don’t be frightened, child. I mean no harm. I am a nun, a sister serving the Lord, and I can take you to my church and give you food and water and help for your baby.”

Kayanakú couldn’t understand the words, but something in the woman’s tone reassured her. Though the old woman wore cloth the color of midnight, the garb was different from that worn by the invaders who had destroyed her village. The terrifying intruders’ clothing clung to their bodies like a second skin, and they had painted their faces to match. This woman’s dress flowed loosely to the ground and a cloth concealed her hair. Her complexion was very pale and wrinkled, her smile warm and comforting. Her touch was tender, and her voice soft and soothing, as she helped Kayanakú to her feet.

A pain in her abdomen doubled Kayanakú over. She looked up into the sympathetic eyes of the woman and saw concern and kindness. With no other option if she hoped to survive and save her baby’s life, Kayanakú decided to trust the woman. Leaning on the nun’s shoulder, they walked slowly away from the shaded grounds.

The nun held her tight, and for the first time in days, Kayanakú no longer felt alone. The two women approached the largest, most beautiful structure Kayanakú could imagine. Its spires shot skyward, taller than the trees, and its surface was carved with decorations and figures like none she had ever seen, not even in the drawings Kokush had made of the etchings on the box containing the sacred relic stolen from her people.

She feared the unfamiliar site as they slowly climbed up the steps toward the entrance, but she was too weak to resist. Huge doors eased open and they entered the cool interior. Rows of wooden benches and a gilded altar were dimly lit by candles flickering near the front of the massive room, and beams of colorful light filtering in through the high, arched stained-glass windows. Kayanakú’s eyes followed the murals up toward the soaring ceiling, and she inhaled the strong aroma of incense and damp musty air. Her knees buckled. She looked into the eyes of the woman trying to hold her up and all went dark.